


No More Melodies

by predictaslash



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sass, Sirens, Some Violence Against a the Bad Guy, Stiles to the rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2036361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/predictaslash/pseuds/predictaslash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, we can go explain that sometimes mommies and daddies fight over being enthralled by women with beaks, but it doesn’t mean that they don’t love each other <i>after</i> we burn the body.”</p>
<p>In which Stiles doesn't let anyone take what is his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No More Melodies

**Author's Note:**

> So, here's something I wrote up really quick last night while avoiding the longer fics that I'm working on (and a bit stuck on). It accidentally turned into a proposal fic.

The first hit of the bat sends a spray of blood across Peter’s face. Normally, he’d be ecstatic about the taste of blood in his mouth, but this blood is neither human nor werewolf. Siren blood turns out to be disgusting.

However, the sight of Stiles, bashing the siren with the bat--that’s a different story. A magnificent story.

“Normally, lady, you would never ever hear me use this kind of language to describe a woman.” A hit to her back gets right at her spine and the siren goes to her knees. She tries to start talking--that’s how sirens do their best work, after all--but Stiles uses the bat to back her into the wall, presses it into her windpipe. “But you are a Grade A C-word.” Because, after all, Stiles really can’t bring himself to say the actual word. She’s choking and grabbing at her throat. Peter can see her claws and tired eyes whereas before he saw...he can’t remember what he saw. He guesses he saw what he wanted to see because, hello, siren.

Stiles tilts his head and Peter can see the earplugs, the kind his dad makes him wear at the gun range. Such a clever boy. He presses the bat in more and more, muscles straining as he does so. Peter can hear the satisfying crunch of her hyoid breaking. Music to his ears. “Scott wanted me to let you live, but you come into my territory and go after my boyfriend?” Her eyes are wide as she tries to bring up her hands to push Stiles away, but now her arms are wings and the lack of oxygen has made her weak. He leans in so that he can whisper dramatically in her ear. “ _Over all the generous earth we know everything that happens._ ” And then she’s gone. Limp. Peter can hear her heart stop beating. It’s beautiful. “But I bet you didn’t see that one coming, bitch.”

Stiles unplugs his ears and drops the bat, wipes his face off where it’s dripping with sweat. Peter raises his eyebrows and makes muffled noises to bring attention to his whole tied up and gagged situation. Stiles’s chest is still going up and down with every quick breath he takes as he drops to his knees and takes out his pocket knife to cut the wolfsbane-laced rope around his wrists. He pulls off the tape on his mouth abruptly enough that Peter briefly feels the pain and he thinks that he might deserve it, only he was under the spell of a siren’s song when he left Stiles for a woman who actually wanted to eat him. 

“Boyfriend?” is the first word that comes out of his mouth and the typical snark is tempered by how dry his throat is.

“I just beat a bird woman to death, the bird woman you left me for, the bird woman who is straight out of Greek mythology, and all you can focus on is that I called you my boyfriend?” Stiles lets the knife slip while he’s cutting the rope at his ankles and it cuts through the fabric of his pants. His Tom Fords. He really should know better than to buy nice things by now--if Stiles isn’t dropping and breaking all of the valuables in his apartment, he’s ruining his clothes with siren blood and hunting knives (and bleach on one occasion, while attempting to do the laundry). The things he suffers through just to put his dick in that sassy mouth. 

“Would you rather I ask if you _actually_ memorized a verse from The Odyssey before deigning to come rescue me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry I took the time to do some research before marching in and murdering that monster. At least I didn’t leave you to die like Derek wanted me to. He took the break-up harder than I did.” Despite Stiles’s sharp tone, he still takes the time to massage Peter’s ankles--he doesn’t need it, his body has already healed the rope burns, but he appreciates the gesture.

“Well, we can go explain that sometimes mommies and daddies fight over being enthralled by women with beaks, but it doesn’t mean that they don’t love each other _after_ we burn the body.” 

“I have to get some feathers from her corpse first. They’re pretty useful in mind control spells.”

“Please tell Scott you need them for puppy healing potions or you’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Yeah, it’s bad enough that I straight murdered that woman.” Knowing Scott, he tried to insist that sirens are just born that way and can’t help their nature when Stiles was walking out the door, armed and ready to fuck that siren’s shit up. Stiles leans in and for Peter, the smell of Stiles mixed with adrenaline and blood and anger is just intoxicating. He wonders how the siren could ever sing to him as much as that scent does. “But she tried to take what’s mine.” He laces the fingers of one hand in Peter’s hair, making it more messy than it was from when the siren tossed him into this shack in the woods by his hair. Stiles tugs just a bit. “No one else can have you.” He bares Peter’s neck for a few long seconds before pulling him in for a biting kiss. 

Stiles is already a human wolf and it bleeds out at times. Peter’s glad Stiles turned the bite down way back when--he can barely keep up with Stiles now and that would be ten times worse if he were an actual werewolf and not just werewolf adjacent.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” Stiles says as he pulls away and helps Peter to his feet. “I spent all weekend trying not to cry and watching Pride and Prejudice with Lydia instead of studying for my polisci exam.”

“I’m sorry if getting music-roofied by a siren and abducted to be eaten interfered with your studies.”

“It definitely interfered with my plans to lay around in bed with my _boyfriend_ all weekend.”

“Boyfriend is such a juvenile term. Wouldn’t you rather call me your lover?” Peter grabs the sirens body--she’s lighter than she looks, but she’s got those hollow bird bones--and takes her outside and unceremoniously drops her in the slight clearing next to the shack. 

“I’d rather call you an asshole,” he mutters as he walks over to his Jeep to grab the two shovels he has back there just in case they need to dig an unmarked grave or hole to burn a body in. 

“Partner?”

“Partner implies that we actually make life choices together instead of you doing whatever you want and then distracting me with make-up sex when I get mad.”

“Partner in Crime?” Stiles laughs a little as he starts digging, not missing the humor when they are currently performing a less than legal act. Although there are no actual laws about how to deal with sirens, so he doesn’t think they would actually get arrested. 

“Live-in Psychotic Jackass?” he shoots back. God, he loves this boy. Stiles gives him feelings. It’s awful, Peter thinks as he throws the body in the hole they’ve dug. Stiles goes to his Jeep again to retrieve the lighter fluid and matches, comes back to douse the siren, and then lights her up with an (adorably) creepy smile on his face.

For all of Stiles’s talk that indicates he’s mad at Peter, it doesn’t stop him from grabbing his hand to hold while they watch the flames together. Peter uses that hand to bring him in closer and put an arm around his shoulders. 

“How about,” he begins in his best negotiating voice, “a compromise?” Stiles turns his head into Peter’s shoulder and takes a deep breath and Peter knows how scared Stiles was a) when he thought he’d broken up with him for another woman and b) when he thought that woman was going to kill his boyfriend. “You could call me your Psychotic Jackass of a Fiancé. Win win.”

Stiles pulls away to look at Peter’s face, to gauge whether he’s fucking with him or not. To be fair, Peter fucks with Stiles a fair amount in their day-to day. But, apparently, Stiles sees something he likes and suddenly there’s a huge grin on his face.

“Yeah, okay, I guess I’ll marry you.” He tries to play it cool, but nothing can mask the happiness in his voice. He tilts his head sideways a bit and Peter picks up his cue to kiss him senseless. They stand there kissing until the siren is just a pile of ash. When they finally pull away from each other, Stiles has beard burn all over his chin. “Hey, do you think we could get Derek to dress in a little blue sailor outfit and be our ringbearer?”


End file.
